


Accustomed Manor

by pocketwatchangora



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Anxiety, Blood, Blood and Injury, Canonical Character Death, Eating Disorders, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fear, Food Issues, Grief/Mourning, Griphook is also there, Healing, Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, Hurt Draco Malfoy, Luna Lovegood is a Good Friend, M/M, Magic, Malfoy Manor (Harry Potter), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Harry Potter, Starvation, Suspicious Ron Weasley, Trauma, Trust Issues, weight loss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-25 14:48:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30090750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocketwatchangora/pseuds/pocketwatchangora
Summary: Harry saw his chance and grabbed it, literally. He got hold of Draco Malfoy by the scruff of the neck and yanked him back against himself, pressing Draco's own wand against the blond boy's throat.-Harry takes Draco hostage at Malfoy Manor and brings him with them to the Shell Cottage, where they learn the horrors he endured within the walls of his family home.Tags will be added per chapter but the archive warnings are to be heeded.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Other(s), Fenrir Greyback/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 12
Kudos: 120





	1. Chapter 1

Harry saw his chance and grabbed it, literally. He got hold of Draco Malfoy by the scruff of the neck and yanked him back against himself, pressing Draco's own wand against the blond boy's throat. 

Harry could hear Draco's breath hitch and tremble. He watched the Malfoy parents’ terrified faces when they saw him in Harry Potter's clutches, both putting their wands up in truce. Bellatrix, however, was still grinning madly at them, apparently not even noticing her nephew's peril, as she accused Dobby of trying to kill her. The brave House Elf was gathering everyone up on the other side of the fallen chandelier and Harry pulled Draco towards them. 

“Dobby never meant to kill! Dobby only meant to maim or seriously injure!” Dobby squeaked, and all Harry saw before the elf apparated them all away was Bellatrix reeling back like she was about to throw a powerful curse at them, except Hermione had her wand, and suddenly he saw sand and the ocean. His hands were still on Malfoy, gripping his suit jacket as they both stumbled to the ground.

He took a few moments to get his breath back, his head swimming with disorientation, then he sat up, looking around for the others. Hermione and Ron were there, and Luna, even Griphook. 

But something was wrong. 

Dobby was there, but his body looked strange, bent at the middle and shaking. Harry stood up, walking towards him, then Dobby started to fall and Harry leapt to catch him. His little body was trembling as Harry carefully lowered him to the damp sand, then he saw it: the knife in Dobby’s stomach, black and surrounded by red, staining the relatively clean pillowcase he wore. 

“Oh… Dobby, you…!” Harry couldn't speak, couldn't think. He heard some kind of scuffle behind him but couldn't move his gaze from Dobby’s. The huge marble-like eyes were wide with fear and sadness, but he tried to smile tremulously. 

“Do not cry, Harry Potter…” he whispered, his bony little hand gripping Harry's sleeve weakly. Harry didn't realise he was crying but drops of water were peppering Dobby’s chest, and he didn't think it was raining. Harry reached for the knife lodged in Dobby’s flesh, wanting to pull it out, get it away, but-

“NO! Don't touch it!” a voice he barely recognised shouted, making Harry jump. He looked round to see Ron restraining Draco Malfoy, both dishevelled.

“He was trying to come at you, Harry!” Ron cried, still wrestling the fighting blond. 

“I can help him, Potter! Let me try!” Draco was shouting hoarsely, his pale face full of emotion and it didn't look like just anger. 

“Like hell! You're not getting your wand back, Ferret Face.” Ron snarled. He was a good few inches taller than Malfoy and much sturdier built, especially now. Draco looked tired and thinner than ever, even Ron's lanky body surrounding him on all sides.

“Harry, there's nothing I can do. Dittany won't help without some very advanced healing spells.” Hermione said, suddenly kneeling beside him and cradling Dobby’s head. Tears were rolling down her cheeks as Dobby smiled at her and she smiled back, then glanced toward Draco. “Let him try.” she said to Harry, who nodded, swallowing.

“Ron. Ron! Bring him over.” he called, trying to control his shaking voice. Ron looked outraged for a moment, then obeyed. He practically lifted Malfoy up and carried him over to their little huddle around Dobby. Draco was dropped to his knees opposite Harry, and Luna, right behind them, pressed her wand against the back of Draco's neck. He barely even reacted as he stared at Dobby, his former servant. The house elf looked up at him with an almost nostalgic smile, fingers weakly digging into the sand. 

“Master Malfoy… how you have grown, sir… Dobby is very glad to see you again.” he said softly, then his face twitched at a surge of pain. Draco blinked once, his face blank, then focused his attention on the knife and wound. The cold was bringing a tiny amount of colour to his cheeks and nose, and he sniffed.

“I...I need a wand. My wand.” he said breathlessly. Harry glared at him, gripping said object tightly. “ _Please,_ Potter, or I can't help him.” Draco said, wide grey eyes looking into Harry's green ones, and Harry saw he meant it. He wanted to save Dobby, wanted to help. Harry glanced at Luna, who was still pointing her wand at Draco with a far harder expression than he had ever seen her wear, ever thought possible on her always so wistful face. 

“Ok… Yes, do something.” Harry said, and handed the wand over. Draco gripped it for a moment, feeling the power, everyone poised to attack if he showed any sign of trying first, then he put the tip to Dobby’s wound. He began whispering something that sounded very much like the spell Snape had cast, kneeling on the flooded bathroom after Harry unwittingly cast Sectumsempra, the song-like spell that stopped Draco bleeding out in front of him, and slowly eased the knife out.

Dobby gasped softly, huge eyes closing tightly in agony. Harry wanted to shout at Draco for hurting him, still terrified of the Malfoy and what he could do with the wand in hand, but he held his tongue, watching.

They all stood, crowded around as Draco Malfoy tried to save Dobby's life and, slowly, the growing bloodstain began to recede and Dobby’s eyes opened again, a little clearer than before, expressing some semblance of relief. 

Draco slowly removed the blade from the wound, revealing the deep, dark red beneath, and continued the spell, shifting himself for more power, more concentration. He swapped his wand hand a few times for different angles, his free hand pressing gently at the bloody flesh so it would knit together better, faster. 

“The knife… it-it's cursed, isn't it...?” Hermione whispered, holding her own bleeding arm, and Draco nodded, not looking up or stopping the spell. His face was tense with focus, becoming frustrated and worried when the wound continued to fight his magic. 

Bellatrix loved her cursed knives. They stopped the wounds closing without some serious magical intervention. Draco himself had felt the bite of many of them, still felt their rips every so often, the wounds never fully healing. She called it ‘teaching’.

“I can't- It's not working…” he said finally, hands shaking and covered in blood. “Granger, do you have dittany? It's not enough on its own but maybe together…” he barely glanced at her but saw her nod. She whispered an accio into her beaded bag and held out a small vial. He took the pippet top and dripped the potion onto the wound with one bloodied hand, continuing the spell with his wand in the other, Dobby wincing at the sting. 

It was a rather amazing display of magical and healing ability; Harry watched with fascination. 

But then, after several long moments, he saw Draco go even paler and he seemed to deflate, shaking his head. He stopped using the dittany, knowing it would only hurt the elf at this point. “I'm sorry, th-there's nothing else I can do, it just keeps opening. The spell will make it less painful but… it's just too deep.” Harry stared at him, not understanding, then looked down at Dobby. He was pale and his eyes looked very shiny, tears rolling down his wrinkled cheeks. 

“Such a beautiful place it is, to be with friends…” Dobby said with a small smile, glancing around dreamily. Harry hadn't even noticed where they were, staring down at his dying friend. His eyes met Dobby’s kind gaze again. “Dobby is happy to be with his friend… Harry Potter…” he whispered. 

He relaxed and went still, staring up at the sky. The smile stayed on his face, even after the light left him.

“He- he's gone.” Draco said after a few moments of total stillness, even the waves seemed to have respectfully stopped lapping at the shore. He put the dittany pipette back into the vial Hermione was still holding for him and lowered his wand, his hands dark and slick with blood. Harry looked at him with blurred vision, despite his glasses, and frowned, then back down at Dobby who was suddenly heavy in his arms. Unseeing, lifeless eyes, reflecting the rolling clouds. “I'm sorry, Potter.” 

Harry sat there, cradling the little bony body close to himself, shakily pulling the torn pillowcase to cover the awful wound. Malfoy's spell had made the bloodstaining minimal, the dark red depth still very much there but smaller, and Harry was glad for that. A gentle hand appeared beside him, fingers with long, dirty nails carefully sliding Dobby’s eyelids closed.

“There… now he could be sleeping." Luna’s sweet voice said and Harry made himself nod, tears hot on his chilled face. He heard the others crying too, sniffling and shaky breaths, but he looked at Draco. 

Staring down at Dobby’s body, white hair fluttering in the breeze, teeth chattering slightly. His eyes were empty and greyer than the sky, like he was the one who was now dead. Harry thought he should hate Malfoy, hate the sight of him, but he didn't. He just felt so  _ sad _ .

“I want to bury him.” Harry said after what could have been hours, his voice thick with emotion. “Properly, without magic.” He said, looking around at the others, and Hermione nodded, standing up slowly to join Ron. Their arms wrapped around each other, and Harry looked away again. 

“Potter...” Draco started, his voice soft, and he met Harry's eyes fleetingly. His gaze dropped and he held his wand out to him. “It's yours now.” he said, verging on emotionless, numb. Harry took the wand.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A house in mourning is great at self-care. Soup is made and enjoyed, by some, and Harry makes a promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for eating issues, weight loss and anxiety in this one! Hope you're all doing good 🙂

Harry and Ron dug the grave into a sand dune overlooking the sea and the ramshackle little cottage they learned belonged to Ron's family. Dobby had been right, it was a beautiful place, calm and open. Dobby’s body was bundled up in a white sheet, his face covered, Luna carried him up from the beach. It would be nice for him to see the sky, she said.

Harry lowered Dobby into his final home himself, laying him to rest deep in the warm sand. When he climbed out, they piled the sand back in, covering up their friend forever. 

Luna said some soft words while Hermione laid some protective spells over the grave and Harry tried not to break down again. Soon, it was just him beside the grave. He found a large black rock, flattened and shaped by the sea, and carefully engraved an epitaph into it. He cried as he carved the words, the sadness echoing hollowly inside his chest.

He left the message there on the grave, a lonely headstone for his friend who had saved them but was gone now, free, and went inside.

Shell Cottage was a lovely place, full of light and cool, fresh air. Harry sat in a large comfortable armchair, listening to the waves outside and staring at nothing. It must be one of the nicer places to die, he thought.

Hermione and Ron were in the kitchen, working out what food they had and what they could make; Luna sat curled on the window seat, looking outside with a small smile and shining eyes. 

Draco was sitting on a dining room chair in almost the middle of the room, easily seen from all angles, where Ron had tied him to it. After all, the Malfoy was hardly there willingly and, though he had truly done everything he could, he had failed to save Dobby. 

Harry didn't think it was fair to treat him like a prisoner, he'd helped them twice now. He understood Draco was a threat, of course, even without a wand, but the Malfoy boy had become so thin and gaunt since he last saw him,  _ stealing away into the darkness, leaving behind a school without a Headmaster _ , he doubted he'd put up much of a fight. 

Harry wondered what horrors he'd witnessed in that house of Death Eaters, Voldemort himself moving freely and with total reign of its vast halls. He hoped Draco hadn't been hurt or abused, but it was very likely. He had failed to kill Dumbledore, and his father had obviously fallen from the Dark Lord's grace by the look of him and Draco's mum; anxiety ridden shadows now, the three of them. Harry watched him thoughtfully, vaguely wondering if his hair was as soft as it looked.

When Ron had decided to tie Draco up to stop him attacking or escaping, saying he was a good hostage, Draco had resisted. But all he'd wanted to do was wash his hands first. He still had Dobby’s blood on his skin, starkly red and dark against his pale flesh. Hermione had agreed before Ron could refuse, and took Draco into one of the bathrooms. Ron had stood in the doorway, watching intently as she gently scrubbed the Malfoy's hands with soap and warm water,not risking Draco getting hold of a wand. She wiped away a smudge on his cheek too, not missing the way he flinched when she lifted the cloth towards him. Malfoy thanked her quietly when he was blissfully clean, then turned to Ron without so much as a ‘hurry up then'. 

“Harry, we're going to walk into the village and buy some food - there's hardly anything here. Ron says it's about half a mile. Would you like to come?” Hermione was speaking. Harry only barely caught it and shook his head. He couldn't face the world yet, his mind still filled with Dobby’s empty eyes. She smiled and nodded her understanding. “Ok, see you in a bit then. Luna?” she asked, and Luna looked up. 

“A walk sounds nice.” she said, slipping from her seat and following them out, leaving Harry and Draco alone together. 

They didn't speak, sharing the silence with no real awkwardness or tension. They were both so tired, so sick of fighting and fear. Harry watched Draco's eyelids become heavy and his own head began to nod. He was happy to fall asleep, feeling comfortable and warm for the first time in what felt like years, but he could see Draco was keeping himself awake, watching the other boy suspiciously. Harry sighed, kicking off his own ragged trainers and getting into a better position. 

“No-one is going to hurt you, Malfoy, not unless you do something against us.” He said, realising they were the first words he'd spoken directly to Malfoy since long before Dumbledore died. In fact, the last time they'd spoken face-to-face was just before he’d cast Sectumsempra and ripped the other boy apart. It felt like his only memory of the Malfoy boy, and it made his own chest hurt just to think of it. 

Draco looked up at him, a feline squint of fatigue. “I just want to sleep in peace, and not have to worry about who's about to attack.” Harry said with true honesty. Draco seemed to startle slightly, then looked down and nodded.

“That makes two of us.” he said softly, nibbling his bloodless bottom lip. He really was exceptionally pale, even more so than he used to be, and could really do with a good meal, or 20. Harry shifted himself again, making sure both his hands were visible to the Malfoy before closing his eyes. He dropped off within seconds. 

Hermione, Ron and Luna returned with a load of shopping from the market in town, and peeked into the living room to find both Harry and Malfoy fast asleep. Harry was in the armchair, half curled up and still wearing his glasses, Draco in the stiff chair, his head resting to the side uncomfortably. Hermione hushed the other two as they crept into the kitchen, mostly because she knew Harry needed the sleep. 

They had discussed what to do with Malfoy on their little excursions to Tinworth. Ron wanted to leave him somewhere to rot, drop him in the middle of nowhere without a wand or a map and see how far he made it. Hermione ignored him, deciding they'd talk it over with Harry. There was something in the Malfoy's very much changed countenance that tugged on her heartstrings, and losing Dobby had been a blow that made her feel like there was enough pain in the world already, not to mention the stinging ache in her arm. She had applied some dittany, secretly, but it didn't seem to be working, just as it hadn't worked for Dobby. She wrapped it tightly in a bandage and hoped for the best.

They cooked an easy, hearty meal of hot vegetable soup and lots of crusty bread, fresh from the village bakery. Draco was shifting when Hermione went to wake them up, blinking sleepily and adjusting his sore neck. Hermione gave a smile, staying well in his eyeline, telling him the food was almost ready. 

Draco looked surprised at this, perhaps he hadn't expected them to feed him at all while they detained him, but he nodded, his eyes uncharacteristically down. Hermione woke Harry up with a light shake of his shoulder and he stirred, then stretched loudly, rubbing his eyes under his glasses. 

“What's for dinner?” he asked with a smile, looking up at her, then at Draco. Still in the chair, arms still tied up behind it, ankles still lashed to the legs. His shoulders were drawn up around his neck, his eyes wide even as he stared at the floor. 

“Soup. We thought everyone needed warming up.” Hermione said, heading back into the kitchen. Luna was setting the table with butter knives and soup spoons, a big jug of water in the centre. Harry got up and was just untying Draco when Ron appeared from upstairs, presumably having taken some food up to Griphook, and demanded what he was doing. 

“Untying him, Ron. He needs to eat and I'm sure  _ none _ of us want a spoon-feeding situation.” Harry said. Ron's eyes were wide with worry and anger, glaring between his best friend and their captive Death Eater. 

“We need to keep him under control or he'll kill us all-" Harry glared back at him, still undoing the unnecessarily tight bindings around Draco's disturbingly fragile wrists.

“If he wanted us dead, he would have told  _ them _ who we are straight away!” Harry said, releasing Draco's arms and rubbing gently at the reddened indentations in his already bruised skin. Had those been there before? 

Draco moved his arms to a comfortable position slowly, not wishing to spook anyone with a sudden movement; he was very used to being wary of everyone around him. He massaged his wrists and hands gratefully, glad to have some control back, and let out a shuddering breath of relief. 

He hadn't even noticed the panic rising in his chest since he'd woken up, awakened by the others returning from their shopping trip. He kept his sore eyes closed, ears honed in on their conversation, trying to learn everything they had planned. Weasley wanted him gone, no surprise there, but Granger was less convinced and firmly insisted they consult Potter before doing anything. He'd tried to listen to them chopping vegetables and clinking saucepans, he hadn't heard anyone actually  _ cooking _ like that in what felt like years, but the terror was quickly overtaking his ability to distract himself. 

Then, later, Potter had looked at him almost kindly and, maybe even unconsciously, soothed his sore wrists when he untied them with the gentle rub of his thumbs. He wouldn't be cruel, Draco let himself hope, not now.

“Leave his ankles like that.” Ron said when Harry made to untie them as well, going to the table to snatch the butter knife from Draco's intended place setting. Harry sighed, giving Draco an apologetic look, and stood up. 

“Fine.” he muttered, then pushed the chair, with Draco still in it, to the table, placing him in the space the chair had vacated. It crossed the Malfoy's mind to bluster about being moved around like a doll in a pram, but the urge was easy to resist. He'd learned to bite his tongue most of the time, sometimes so literally he tasted blood. It wasn't difficult anymore.

Harry sat in the chair to Draco's right, suddenly absolutely starving. Ron and Luna brought out bread and bowls, and Hermione appeared with a huge dish of steaming vegetable soup which she placed in the middle of the table. She spooned the rich, chunky liquid into everyone's bowls, saying they were welcome to more, there was plenty, while Ron passed around the basket of warm French bread, already sliced. Harry took it, thanking them all for the food, and took a few slices for himself, then tilted it towards Draco. 

The Malfoy boy looked utterly confused for a moment, so very unused to this kind of meal, even being offered food by someone not holding back malicious laughter was a foreign experience, then selected a couple of slices slowly. Harry smiled before turning away to pass the basket to Luna. Draco glanced around at them as they all began to eat, blowing at spoonfuls of vegetables and broth, and ripping off pieces of bread with their teeth with a polite savagery that some far-away part of him found faintly ridiculous. 

“Dig in, Malfoy, before it gets cold.” Ron growled through a mouthful of food, jabbing his spoon at him. Draco jumped, obeying as a reflex, his head down as he dipped his spoon into the oil-speckled liquid and quietly drank the flavourful soup, finding it to be quite delicious. His stomach roiled, however, his constant anxiety had badly affected his appetite and just the thought of food made him feel sick, but he ignored the feeling and forced himself to eat a corner of the bread because he really was so hungry, and he'd been ordered to eat. 

Harry had noticed his reaction immediately, frowning at the blond boy. When he seemed to be struggling with the food, taking the tiniest bites, Harry leaned a little closer.

“Don't you like it?” he asked very softly, trying not to embarrass him. Draco looked at him, his eyes wide and fearful. Harry was shocked to see him looking so afraid; he'd only ever seen an expression like that on Draco's face once before, and it was as his skin was ripping itself open from a curse Harry himself had cast. Why did everything about Malfoy remind him of that awful day?

“N-no, it's nice- thank- thank you.” Draco stammered hurriedly, taking another bite of the bread, his hand shaking. 

“Hey, look, Malfoy… it's alright. We're not going to hurt you, I promise.” Harry said, unsure what had caused such fear in him. The others had noticed now too and were peering curiously at Malfoy. Luna regarded him with particular sadness, at odds with the hardened look she'd had on the beach, then met Harry's eye.

“There are different sorts of prisoners.” she said softly, in explanation. Draco looked at her, confused, and she met his gaze. “I saw what you did, and… what they  _ made _ you do. I hated you, at first, I thought you were one of them. But you're not, are you? You never have been, really.” She said. Draco swallowed and looked down, his whole body tense.

“What… did they make you do…?” Harry asked slowly, staring at the blond boy. Draco looked back at him, his eyes wide and begging. Harry suddenly noticed an old bruise around the Malfoy's left eye, almost faded completely, the bruises on his wrists he'd thought were from Ron's bindings, and his face was so thin and gaunt he could have been starving. Perhaps he was. And God only knew what was hidden beneath his clothes.

“You don't have to answer that, Draco. Just… when did you last eat?” Hermione asked him gently. His eyes snapped to her face, feeling overwhelmed, then down at his full bowl which gave him such anxiety but that he was desperate for. He wished everyone would stop staring at him, their eyes making his skin crawl.

“I…” his voice came out hoarse and shaky, he cleared his throat and tried again. “Not for a few days. My food was… limited, and often poisoned or-” He stopped and let out a shaky sigh, realising he was ‘complaining’. “I'm sorry, I'll eat.” He said, picking his spoon up again. Harry saw the tremble in his hand and hesitantly reached for him, very gently touching his arm. Draco looked at him with enormous, fearful eyes and Harry's heart ached.

“You don't have to.” He said gently, moving his own hand away slowly. “Just eat what you can, you should have something." He paused, glancing at his friends before returning his gaze to Malfoy. "You're safe here, Draco, I promise you. From them and from us." he said, smiling with what he hoped read as kindness, and went back to his own food, so Draco wouldn't feel watched. The others did the same and, after a few moments, he saw Draco start to eat again out of the corner of his eye. He was slow and methodical, obviously all but forcing the food down, but at least he was eating. 

They finished their dinner and Harry untied Draco completely from the chair. Ron had protested again but Harry had given him a look that made him shut his mouth. 

They all decided to have showers and get into more comfortable clothes, make themselves at home as the sky began to darken. Ron said they'd be safe here for a good while, the family cabin was fortified with plenty of advanced spells. Hermione went through her bag and found clothes for everyone, even Draco - who was given a pair of Ron's loose trousers, which neither of them were particularly happy about but Harry's would have been too short on his legs, and a thick knitted jumper of Harry's, courtesy of Mrs Weasley. 

Harry volunteered to guard the Malfoy while he showered, clearing out everything he could use to hurt anyone, including himself, or to somehow escape beforehand. He  _ hadn't _ expected Draco to strip off right in front of him, shrugging his jacket off, which he dropped carelessly on the floor, and pulled off his shirt. 

“Christ, Malfoy, don't just-” he stopped, a gasp escaping him before he could think. Draco was horrifically thin, his shoulder blades, ribs and spine distressingly prominent, and he was  _ covered _ in bruises and cuts and scars. “Oh my God… Draco, you…- What the bloody hell did they do to you…?” Harry breathed, fighting the urge to touch the bony, bruised skin. Draco looked at him, practically disappearing as he turned to the side. He looked scared again, like he'd done something wrong. 

“Oh… s-sorry, I didn't-” he trailed off, trying to cover himself with his bone-thin arms. Malfoy had never exactly been beefy; he was always a very slender person, graceful, delicate even, but now he was  _ starved _ . Harry knew what that amount of bruising meant too, why the majority of damage was around his dagger-sharp hips, visible from the loose waistband of previously tailored trousers held in place by a dragonskin belt on its smallest, apparently recently added, notch. 

It made his heart hurt to think of Draco being hurt so badly. He was still a  _ child _ , they all were. A house full of murderers, torturers,  _ rapists _ , the worst kind of violent evil, setting upon this poor young man who really didn't have any say in any of what happened to him. He'd been born into one of the darkest magical families in the Wizarding World; what had made him so arrogant before had now hurt him so, so badly. He was a broken person, Harry could see that now, and there was nothing he could do to magically fix it. 

“It's ok, don't worry, just…- I-I'll be right outside if you need me.” He turned away and was about to close the door on him, when he stopped, heart pounding. He looked back at Draco's grey eyes, too large for his gaunt face and fearful as they tracked Harry's every movement, and wanted to cry. “You really are safe here, Draco… No-one will touch you while you're with us. You have my word.” he said, trying to show how very sorry he was, and how much he meant it. He closed the door gently and sat down on a chair in the hallway, rubbing his face with his hands hard as he let out a bone-deep sigh. A few moments later, he heard the shower turn on, and let himself sit back and relax as he waited. He finally felt clean and comfortable in fresh clothes, warm and safe.

He closed his eyes after a few minutes, still so tired, but all he could see was Draco's skeletal form still painfully fragile before him, like it was burned into the backs of his eyelids. He opened them again quickly, shaking his head to remove the thoughts. Instead, he thought about earlier when they had been sitting in the living room, both desperate to sleep. 

He hadn't noticed how emaciated Draco was then, he'd been too fixated on his white blond hair, how it fell over his forehead where he usually had it combed back in haughty neatness. Harry wondered, with a distinct feeling of inexplicable loss, if any of that prissy perfectionist, any of that  _ person _ , was left in that hollow shell on the other side of the bathroom door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave some kudos and a comment! ✨


End file.
